Traitor Born (Secondborn #2)(48)
“Do you suspect Burton?”
“I do,” Clifton replies without reservation.
“Resume!” The Virtue orders, his hands clenched into fists.
My holographic image enters the social club. I can hardly watch. The burn of adrenaline, of knowing what lies ahead, sickens me. I want to reach into her world of light and warn her—tell her to save her father—but I can’t. The sound transports me back to that living nightmare. Panic seizes. My vision blurs. I’m gasping. No one notices. They’re all riveted by the footage. Then the carnage begins.
Reaching into my sweater pocket, I take out the packet of chets. The cellophane wrapper crinkles loudly beneath the recorded screams of a violent massacre. My shaking fingers have a difficult time tearing open the seal. Walther eases the packet from my grasp, deftly opening it and offering me a small white stamp in his palm. I don’t take it all. Instead, I rip off a corner piece and put it in my mouth. Dune’s brother stuffs the rest of the chet back into the cellophane and slips them into my pocket. Slowly, my breathing eases, though everything still has a faraway perspective.
My holographic image enters the gallery, sparking cheers from some of the group assembled here. The firstborns are enjoying this, as if it were some form of entertainment. I stifle a snort of derision.
“Who is that Sword?” The Virtue shouts.
“Pause,” Clifton orders. “That’s Hawthorne Trugrave. He’s a newly Transitioned firstborn. You remember him—he was at the Sword Palace the night you acquired Roselle.”
Acquired. Have I been acquired? Is that what they’re calling my internment here?
“Get him here!” The Virtue barks.
“Of course,” Clifton replies. “Resume.” He sends a message with his moniker.
Under the influence of the chet, I analyze the Goddess Roselle before me. She’s possessed, eviscerating her enemies with the vengeance of a wrathful deity. Ruthlessly, she hunts them. The fusionmag is an extension of her will. With Tyburn behind her, shielding her back, she’s the north, south, and east winds.
The men watching shout thunderously and applaud when Roselle slices open the leg of the flying Death God with her dagger. Her fall to the ballroom floor elicits gasps. More cheers roar as she targets the flying assassin and shoots him out of the air. But when she dons goggles and spews a billowing cloud of red dust into the ballroom, the firstborns jump to their feet, clapping uproariously at the wholesale slaughter of assassins, as if she’s some favored competitor in the Secondborn Trials.
I am unable to look away. I feel nothing when the war goddess tackles the bomb-wielding assassin, crashing with him through the window and out into the night sky. The grenade explodes. All the glass blows inward, shooting shards toward the surveillance cameras. The firstborns raise their arms to their faces and gasp.
The holographic footage ends. Whoops of laughter seize the group. Grisholm is one of the most riotous, as if he’s been on a thrill ride and can’t stop talking about the experience. He turns to Reykin, chatting boisterously. Reykin glances over his shoulder at me. His expression is grim. I look away.
The Virtue calls Clifton back to the front of the room. He and Dune brief Fabian Bowie and his advisors on their preliminary findings about the massacre.
I’m barely listening.
“You were brave,” Walther says. I meet his eyes. They’re jade colored, not sand.
“It wasn’t bravery,” I reply. “It was rage—a Sword-Fated threnody.”
“Remind me not to upset you.”
“I’ll do that. Walther.”
His smile is one of pure pleasure. For a moment, it soothes the ache in my chest.
Dune says, “I’d like to introduce Firstborn Walther Petes.” He gestures in our direction. “He’s a newly Transitioned firstborn, a former secondborn commanding officer at the Twilight Forest Base in Swords. His brother, Fergusson Petes, was among the casualties at the club last night. He flew in this morning to assume his new position as a military consultant to The Virtue.”
“Please excuse me, Roselle,” Walther says, turning and making his way to the front. He calls for the holographic footage to be replayed and begins to dissect the crime, pointing out all the crucial elements The Virtue hadn’t noticed.
As I analyze the players before me, questions take shape in my mind. I’m no longer so certain that my mother and brother perpetrated this crime. For one thing, they weren’t the only ones who had strong motives. Fergusson Petes was at the social club. His death not only elevated Dune’s twin brother to firstborn, but it also afforded Dune the opportunity to infiltrate The Virtue’s trusted advisory panel with yet another Gates of Dawn operative.
Clifton explains the device that mirrors monikers. The accusation that it may be Burton’s technology certainly plays in his favor, but is it enough of a reason to make him shoot up a Sword social club? Maybe not, but the plan to install Salloway security technology everywhere throughout the city of Purity—that is. A plan like that allows Clifton to control the capital, especially when The Virtue no longer trusts the Sword military.
My mind reels with all the possible political motivations for last night’s slaughter. The problem is that neither the Rose Gardeners nor the Gates of Dawn wants me dead. Maybe they knew I could handle myself if given the proper motivation? Killing my father wouldn’t only motivate me, it would get them both one step closer to making me the most powerful person in the world.